


John Smith

by TheDelphian



Series: Two of Hearts [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series, Justice League, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League Dark (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Young Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2576327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDelphian/pseuds/TheDelphian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Zatanna visit the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Smith

**Author's Note:**

> A flashback of sorts, when Bruce Wayne was training to be an escape artist under the guise of John Smith.

A pair of high-waist shorts lay abandoned in the sand. Next to it: a yellow tank top, one that had been discarded just moments ago. The young man finds it difficult to look up from the rejected clothing; he stands there, cursing the heat that threatens to crawl up his broad neck.

She calls to him, "C'mon, John; the water's warm!" And although it's against his better judgment, he looks up in order to acknowledge her.

She's knee-deep in the ocean. Salted waves pour in and splash against her thighs as she smiles at him, eyes bright with child-like wonder. She's clad in nothing but her underwear: a white [COTTON BRA](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_download.php?storytextid=35051556#) and a matching pair of panties. It's nothing fancy. It does nothing to accentuate her figure, nor does it expose an unnecessary amount of flesh, but she's still beautiful. Her legs are still long and shapely, her waist still slim, her skin still tan, and her body still curved in all the right places. The boy is only eighteen years of age. His hormones get the best of him as he watches her shake her hair out of its ponytail, luscious black locks falling past her shoulders with an implausible amount of grace. The young man takes a step forward; he's never wanted to be so close and yet so far away from a person all at the same time.

"I don't think we should be doing this, Zana." He tells her, and he knows it sounds stupid. He isn't the least bit surprised when she laughs at him.

"Don't be such a spoilsport!" She says, a giggle passing through her lips, "Take those pants off and get in here!"

The young man frowns and looks down at himself, cursing silently as the heat returns and makes its way up towards his ears. He wishes he had worn shorts. His chest is already bare, and as he reaches down towards the hem of his pants, his heart rate increases. Hesitantly, he lets them fall to the ground. He steps out of them. All that exists beneath his Kaki's are a short pair of jockey's, and he shouldn't feel embarrassed, but he does. He doesn't dare to look up and make eye contact as he makes his way towards the water.

"We should really be heading back to the hotel." He says, but his feet continue to move towards the ocean, his eyes remain glued to the ground.

She giggles again, and her laugher's like candy to him; it's been so long since he's ever truly been amused, so long since he's ever heard the sound of a genuine laugh, that he isn't even upset it's at the cost of his own discomfort.

"Yes," she says, "there are plenty of things we should and shouldn't be doing."

He looks up at her then. Her blue eyes are sparkling with playful mischief, her arms crossed just below her generous chest as she watches him move towards her at an agonizingly [SLOW](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_download.php?storytextid=35051556#) pace.

"But, then again, maybe we  _should_." she says, extending a hand in order to snatch one of his, pulling him towards her own form forcefully. He stumbles a bit, bare flesh coming in contact with bare flesh. "By the time we'd get back, my father would be at the theater preparing for his show; we'd have the room to ourselves."

She's looking up at him under a thick set of eyelashes, the expression on her face only able to be described as hopeful. He's finding it difficult to speak. His breath is caught in his throat and those blasted youthful hormones of his are flaring up again.

"I…I couldn't do that, Zana." He tells her, and she isn't the least bit surprised.

She sighs and lays the side of her face against his bare chest. Her arms attempt to encircle his waist, but are too short for her hands to meet at his backside.

"Yes, you could." She whispers, and the hurt is apparent in her voice.

He struggles to find the appropriate place to put his hands, and, admittedly, he wonders if he's always been this awkward with women. His insides ache at that thought, for the young girl before him is only sixteen years of age and can hardly be called a woman. And yet, at only two years her senior, he feels as though he has been a man since he was eight years old. Hesitantly, he allows his own hands to find the small of her back.

"Your father has graciously taken me in, has offered to train me at no cost; I couldn't disrespect him that way." He says, his voice barely [AUDIBLE](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_download.php?storytextid=35051556#), "I couldn't…I couldn't disrespect  _you_ that way."

She's pouting now, and, much to his surprise, she pushes away from him. She wades through the water and tugs at her hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"You're not like other guys, John." She tells him, but, quite frankly, she isn't entirely sure her words are true. For, as little romantic progress they have been making, it's the most she has ever made with any man. "Just tell me one thing…"

She turns around to look at him again, and his stomach doubles over at the sight of pain in her ocean-blue eyes. He says nothing, but she takes that as an invitation to continue.

"What's your real name?" She asks, and the overwhelmingly hurt expression on her face has him considering the idea of telling her the truth.

But he frowns and tells her, "It's John," because he can't think of anything better to say.

She sighs and turns away from him once more; his eyes betray him and eagerly steal a glance at her backside.

"No, it isn't," Is all she says before making her way back towards the shore.

He watches as she begins to replace her clothing, and he questions his own motives for saying no to her. Had he gone back to the hotel with her, there was hardly a possibility of her father finding out. Even if he had, the man was far too fond of him to be upset about it. By God, he'd be thrilled; he'd start making wedding plans. No, this wasn't about her father, this was about her. But it had nothing to do with disrespecting her; no, not at all, this had everything to do with  _protecting_  her – protecting her from disappointment. He wasn't the man she thought he was.

"No," he says softly, "it isn't."

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment with your thoughts!


End file.
